


I'm Not Asking You to Marry Me

by letmegeekatyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never stays the night, but Cas asks anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Asking You to Marry Me

Dean came seconds after Cas, his shout muffled as he bit down on Cas’s shoulder. They were both breathing raggedly, and Cas smiled, stroking Dean’s back as they leaned into each other.

“I like that thing you did with your fingernails,” Cas murmured. “That was…sensational.” Dean let out a huff a breath against his skin that might almost have been a laugh. For a moment, only a moment, they sat like that: the hunter in the lap of the former angel, their arms wrapped around each other, heads resting on each others’ shoulders like a statue carved from a single stone.

Soon, though, Cas felt Dean’s arms drop away, felt a terrible nakedness as Dean lifted himself off of his lap and climbed out of bed without meeting his eyes. The candles had burned down inside themselves, and the light was so faint that as Dean moved around getting dressed he seemed to be miles away, somewhere at the end of a dark tunnel, the light only catching, here and there, the curve of his bicep or the side of his face.

“Here you go,” Dean said, tossing Cas a towel, which he reached out to catch without thinking about it. He knew the steps to this dance. Dean was putting on his pants, then would come the socks and boots, and finally the shirt and jacket. On a good night, he might stand by the door looking at Cas while he put them on, almost looking sorry to go. On a bad night, he’d look anywhere else, and he’d still be pulling on the jacket even as he opened the door to go.

“Dean,” Cas began, slowly and reluctantly wiping the evidence of Dean’s presence from his stomach, “you don’t have to—”

“I got work to do. Stay if you want.” Cas felt a cold that had nothing to do with his damp nakedness. It was the same every time, the same tenderness, the same lust and heat, the same deep kisses and the same fierce clinging, followed by The Amazing Dean’s World Famous Vanishing Act. He’d tried to wait him out before, stayed in Dean’s bed ‘til morning, keeping to his side (or the side he’d claimed as his). But eventually he’d wake up alone, the sheets tangled around his legs from tossing all night. Dean, he’d learn later, had fallen asleep in one of the trucks or spent the night cleaning the weapons. Sometimes he didn’t get an explanation at all, although Chuck had mentioned Dean patrolling on foot half the night sometimes, walking for hours around the same few square miles, never stopping to rest, never sitting down.

“It wouldn’t kill you to stay, you know. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or, heaven forbid, cuddle. Dean, I’m not trying to take anything from you.” Cas hated the pleading note in his voice, knew it would only push Dean farther away.

“I need to sort out the arsenal, make sure everything’s in order.”

He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks, and Cas fought the urge to come sit behind him, to wrap an arm around Dean’s waist and lay a cheek on his warm, broad back. Instead, he bunched up the damp towel in his hands and tossed it away in frustration.

“The arsenal is in order,” he answered angrily. “You know it is.” Dean tugged forcefully at his sock. _Good_ , Cas thought. _Be angry. Anger I can work with_. He reached out to grip Dean’s shoulder, turning him roughly and startling him enough to get some eye contact, ready for a fight, ready to convince Dean to stay instead of begging him. But Dean looked…lost. His jaw was set like it always was these days, his brow furrowed, but his eyes in the candlelight were wide and anxious, and Cas softened his grip, spoke more quietly than he meant to. “You’re no good to anyone if you don’t sleep. Just an hour. We’ll all be the better for it.”

Dean looked away, fingers twisting in the sheet under his hand, his profile a hard line of orange light in the gloom. He wanted to stay, Cas knew he did. Deep inside him, some well-hidden piece of his heart was the same as it ever was. If he could only reach it. So he took a risk.

“Please, Dean…”

It was too much. Dean stood up quickly, shaking off Cas’s hand and stalking deeper into the darkness to find his t-shirt and jacket on the floor. Tonight was a bad night, Cas knew. _Probably should have seen that coming_. Dean hadn’t even started to put the jacket on when he was halfway out the door, and if there was any time to pull his trump card, it was now, with Dean almost gone in the darkness and midnight coming on fast.

“It’s our last night on earth.”

Dean froze in the doorway. It was a dirty move, and Cas knew it. If anything was sacred to Dean Winchester, it was this: that no one should die having missed out on whatever small, broken pieces of happiness this life had to offer. Not a bad gospel, Cas thought, all things considered.

“We already did that.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” He could see Dean turn his face toward him, even if he couldn’t make out his features. “It’s our last night on earth, and I’m asking you to come back to bed, Dean. One hour. Then we roll out, we few, we happy few, and throw ourselves at the devil, guns blazing. What do you say, fearless leader?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he shut the door and said, very quietly, “I don’t think I can. An hour in that bed, and I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to get out of it again. Cas…”

But Cas was already on his feet, crossing the darkness between them.

“You will,” he said, reaching up to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck, Dean’s hands going automatically to his waist as they pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed. “I’ll give you all the strength I’ve got left. Might even have some old grace knocking around in here.”

“Pretty sure that’s the drugs, Cas,” Dean answered, and Cas thought he almost heard a smile. “One hour?”

“One hour.”

Dean nodded. Cas looked up, hoping to catch his eyes, but the candles were almost out, and everything was darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by cascrashedthetardis and her heartbreaking tags (http://kierincredible.tumblr.com/post/77214176836)
> 
> Originally posted at http://legacysam.tumblr.com/post/77245107013/end-verse-destiel-inspired-by-these-heartbreaking


End file.
